


Underdog

by exposeyou



Category: True Blood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-31
Updated: 2011-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:35:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exposeyou/pseuds/exposeyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Marlotte has always envied strong men. He's thinking on this when Jason Stackhouse walks into his bar. What's a beta male to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underdog

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the end of Season Two. Implied non-con.

Sam Merlotte had always envied strong men. Oh, he was as physically strong as the next man – his compact body was powerful for his size – and his tenacity could be seen in the fact that he had spent his youth living rough, surviving on the streets, but had managed to become a well-liked and respected businessman.

He felt, though, that strength born out of necessity was different to the kind of strength he saw in men who didn’t _need_ it. The boys who had bullied him in junior high, and the men who got drunk and rowdy on a Friday night in the bar – the men who were rarely challenged in life simply because of their looks, physicality, or arrogance.

This wasn’t to say that he hated people like that, though.

Rather, he was acutely aware of their power, physical, social, whatever, every time he came across them. He felt both a sickening jealousy at how _easy_ life was for them, and a certainty that, as much as he might want to take them down a peg or two, it was safer to just acquiesce to whatever the hell they wanted him to do. Add to this the shame he felt at his own spinelessness, and he had a nice little cocktail of emotions to deal with four or five times a day.

Sometimes he got so wound-up about this mess of insecurities that he’d slam doors and kick chairs – the really bad times, he’d have to go out back and change, run through the woods until he’d got his pent-up aggression out.

He wondered if it was a shifter thing, particularly. He saw other people get wound-up by such assholes, but he could tell that, unlike him, they weren’t fighting conflicting urges to hit them, run away, and try to act like a normal human being, all at once. And he thought that it was probably why he had such a dislike for vampires. Sure, his animosity towards Vampire Bill was mostly because he wanted Sookie, but what about when he met that vampire sheriff over in Shreveport? He’d gone over there out of desperation, needing help, and should have been able to be firm, but respectful. People’s lives depended on that.

Instead, he had found himself looking at six feet tall of preternaturally-enhanced muscle, radiating power even when at ease, and felt almost compelled to lie on the floor with his belly in the air.

Something in Sam was easily influenced by alpha males. He put it down to his affinity with dogs. That’s what it was, just a little crossover from the two halves of him, the same way he had a sharp sense of smell, and barked in his sleep. The fact that he had felt desperate to submit to whatever Eric would have demanded of him was nothing to be disturbed about. It was survival, that’s all. Don’t piss off an alpha, or you’ll get your throat ripped out.

It all made sense, so why was he so concerned about his reactions? Why did he lie awake at night replaying scenarios in his head, wishing he hadn’t bitten back a sarcastic quip, or that he’d just punched the fuckers who gave the waitresses hassle? He felt sure that it was becoming an obsession. He shouldn’t be regretting the fact that he successfully suppressed his instincts and was able to act like a civil human being. It was manners and self-control, after all, that really separated humans from animals.

Maybe it was to do with Sookie and Bill. He’d seen the woman he had cared about for years whisked away by someone older, stronger and more self-assured than him. Someone whose status as a supe seemed to have actually enhanced his life. Sam, in his bitterness, could overlook the loneliness and moral self-loathing Bill went through – after all, it wasn’t as if they had heart-to-heart chats about it. But vampires could reveal their nature and the women could come flocking.

Sam, on the other hand, had always lived in fear of people knowing what he was. The one time he had been able to be open about his nature with a woman – well, look how that had turned out. “Dead and in his chiller” was not ideal.

So yeah, he was jealous of the alpha males of this world. A feeling that had got worse, somehow, since settling on Bon Temps. When he had been living rough, surviving day to day, he didn’t really have time for pettiness or insecurities. Now, secure if not content, he had more opportunity to brood on things, and it seemed damned unfair that after working so hard, and owning the most popular bar in town, he had no real power. Sure he was well-known as a likeable guy, but being a likeable guy didn’t get you respect, or your staff showing up on time, or the girl. He was still a beta, down the chain of command, and fucking resented it.

Jason Stackhouse had always been a bit of a trigger for him. He didn’t know what it was, but the guy just put him on edge. Maybe it was the way he looked like Sookie, or more likely the way that he had everything handed to him on a plate. Women flocked to him, men respected him. Was it all just because he used to be good at throwing a ball around?

Sam gritted his teeth as he started polishing the bar taps.

It went deeper than that, too. Even the way Jason worked a deadend job on the road crew, but was really happy with it. Here Sam was, busting his ass trying to run his own business, open all day then most of the night, then spending his one day a week off frantically trying to keep up with his paperwork. Stackhouse may have been doing physically hard work, but at the end of the day he got to kick back with his buddies and have a beer. It wasn’t as if he needed the pay. Sam slaved all hours and still lived in a trailer, but Jason had just had a nice house handed to him on a plate.

Sam knew that wasn’t fair. The guy hadn’t had it all easy. He hadn’t yet moved to Bon Temps when Jason’s parents died, but he knew what it felt like to be without a family. And it was horrible what happened to Jason and Sookie’s gran, not to mention him being accused for all those murders.

But that was the point, wasn’t it? A dumb guy like Jason was seen as dangerous, a sexual predator. People honestly believed that he could bed Dawn, Maudette and Amy, then kill them. Not that Sam wanted to be seen as a psycho, but the fact that he could never instil that kind of fear in anyone was a slur on his masculine pride.

It was a canine thing, it must be.

He was a person, he could control it.

Still, when Stackhouse came sauntering into the bar just as Sam was thinking of him, it put him on edge. He idly wondered if his bad mood had summoned the blonde.

‘Hey, is my sister here?’

‘Naw, she took off early. Its nearly closing time.’

‘I’ll just have a quick one, then.’

He would, wouldn’t here? Swagger in when he was in the worst of moods, demand a beer when Sam had just done wiping the taps, and wanted to get to bed.

Sam walked out from behind the bar, his towel still in his hand. It had been a slow night. He noticed now that the place was completely empty. If it wasn’t for Jason he could be closed.

Jason looked up, perplexed. ‘Hey Sam, what are you doing? I’m waiting on a drink here.’

He looked even more puzzled when Sam’s fist slammed to his face. Jason toppled off his bar stool sideways, sending the others falling like dominoes.

Sam hauled him up by his shirt, and slammed him face down on the bar. Jason was bent over, with one arm twisted painfully behind his back.

It felt good, having him pinned down like that, helpless. Jason may have been fit, but unlike Bill or Eric, he was one alpha male that Sam could easily take in a fight. His shifter nature came with some advantages after all.

‘You know I could fucking take you, don’t you? You come in here like you own the place, take advantage because I’m such a “nice guy”? Well I could do whatever I liked to you right now.”

With one hand keeping hold of Jason’s messy blonde hair, Sam unzipped his jeans.

He shook his head, cleared his thoughts. He wasn’t an animal. Jason had helped him to save this town. He was a good person, even if Sam didn't like him much.

‘I’ll just have a quick one, then.’

‘Dixie?’

‘Sure.’

Sam filled a glass with beer, careful not to leave too much head on it. He paused.

‘Mind if I have one with you?’

‘Go ahead, I could use the company.’

Sam walked out from behind the bar, two glasses in his hands. It had been a slow night. He noticed now that the place was completely empty. If it wasn’t for Jason he could be closed.

Still, better to have some company than be alone.

 

 

 

 


End file.
